


On Her Knees

by Nemesis (ThetaSigma)



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/Nemesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this is how her hospital stays running the way she wants it to, then so be it. Written partly for the cuddy_fest prompt: 34. Cuddy, /House or gen: you can't always get what you want...</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Her Knees

They never kissed before. Kissing implied romance and love and a healthy dollop of lust or affection or some kind of positive, shining emotion that Cuddy could relate to. Possibly, Vogler could, too, but regardless, Cuddy didn’t want to know (and she greatly pitied anyone who was involved with Vogler romantically). 

Vogler treated her just as what she was: a hooker. Nothing better. She knew the terms of their deal: He got sex, she got to keep her hospital running roughly the way she wanted it to. They were constantly arguing over the exact terms – what, _exactly_ , did roughly mean, how far was too far in sex, how far was too far in Vogler’s meddling. 

He wouldn’t budge on firing one of House’s team. It was only a particularly good blowjob that kept Vogler from firing _House_ outright.

But Vogler’s beady eye was fixing on House again, and House, in customary Housian reaction, stood right up and snapped back. Cuddy damned House for being like that, for needing always to stand on principle instead of just shutting up. But she knew that House wouldn’t be House if he kept a low profile for a while.

She had hoped Wilson would be able to mellow House out a bit, soften him, take a bit of that edge off, but it had been a forlorn hope. If nothing else, a steady regiment of sex sharpened his mind, and, more importantly, his tongue. Wilson, on the other hand, was a strange mix of extremely mellow (House really must be _that_ good, Cuddy mused) and extremely protective of House (not that that was _that_ different).

A hand tightening on her chin drew her attention back to the present. She had tried to forget exactly where she was and what she was about to do. It was perhaps the only way to deal with it.

Vogler was already naked, showing off rolls of fat everywhere. He was a disgusting man to look at, not one attractive part to him. As a doctor, Cuddy’s mind immediately began cataloguing all the medical diseases Vogler put himself at risk for by being _that_ fat. For a man supporting a hospital, he was surprisingly cavalier about his own health. 

He had undressed Cuddy… somewhat. She was no longer wearing her low-cut blouse – now cut even lower for his benefit, so that he could leer at her in the middle of the day and remember staring at that rack during sex – nor her tight skirt. But she still had her bra and thong on, and she didn’t mind not having to take them off.

She wondered what it would be today. Would he fuck her? Demand a blowjob? Or something kinkier?

“Blow me,” he rasped in what Cuddy guessed he meant to be a seductive voice. She dropped fluidly to her knees and engulfed him immediately. She swirled her tongue around the head, pushing all thoughts to the back of her mind. She thought of happier times, times when being a Dean didn’t mean whoring herself out shamelessly. She started to see why there weren’t more female deans.

Vogler was moaning and groaning above her, thrusting into her mouth. She slackened her jaw and let him, let him shove his erection deep into her throat. 

He came, shuddering, down her throat an interminably long time later. Her jaw ached, and she subtly stretched it, trying to loosen the tension. 

There was a vice-like grip on her chin pulling her up, and Cuddy went immediately. Vogler kissed her now, forcing her mouth open and sweeping around inside as though it were his right. He groaned again, and Cuddy guessed it was the thrill of tasting himself on her tongue.

The kiss – if one really wanted to call it that – ended finally. Cuddy pulled her blouse back on, put her skirt on again, and swept her hair out of her face.

“A speech,” Vogler rumbled. “I’ll make him do a speech. If he does it, he and his team can stay.”

As Cuddy left, she swore she heard Baba O’Riley playing in her mind. It was a strangely fitting song.

Not as good a fit as her fist in his mouth, though.

\-- End


End file.
